LoM Fic: 5 Crazy People that Gene Hunt Met....
Fandom: LIFE ON MARS
Title: Five Crazy People Gene Hunt Met (Much to His Horror) and one with whom he was reunited
Word Count: 1,868
Summary: The title says it all!
Genre: Crack, 5 things, Crossover with Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Demons and a little bit of A2A
Beta: The wonderful
scarlet_gryphon gave it a once over
A/N: Response to a prompt given ages ago by wickednotevil. I got around to it eventually!
Archived at AO3
When Gene first met Sam Tyler, he thought he was completely off his nut. As time would tell, that was an accurate assumption. Gene lost precious hours which he could have been spending in the pub catering to Sam’s special brand of insanity. He spent even more time in the station than he ever had before, impressive considering he practically lived there in the first place.
On occasion, however, there was method to Sam’s madness. Or possibly madness in his methods. Either way they put away a few more bad guys than they might have, picked up on a few things that only the utterly cracked mind of DI Tyler would have ever noticed.
Gene’s first thought on meeting Sam however was that he was a nut job who would do nothing but be a pain in Gene’s arse.
He was right about the trouble Sam would cause him, but he’d later realise it was mostly worth it.
It wasn’t long after they lost Sam that Gene encountered the speccy lunatic with the gravity defying hair.
A loud crack that sounded far too similar to a gunshot -and on Gene’s brand spanking new turf too- was what brought him to the opening of a London alleyway at seven on a Thursday evening. He’d barely stepped around the corner when he was bowled over by a dark haired, bearded man who spared him a brief glare as he was shoved into the alley wall.
“What the-?” Gene squinted. The freak was definitely wearing a dress, and gripping a stick the same way Gene did his gun during a chase.
Mere seconds later a young man appeared in the alley. Out of nowhere. The shock kept Gene from going and investigating the sounds of a scuffle somewhere outside of the alley; instead he blinked at the lad in confusion. “Where the hell’d you come from?” he demanded, idly he wondered if someone had spiked the scotch in his office.
The black haired boy barely spared him a glance, looking down at an hour glass that was hung around a golden chain on his neck.
“Oi!” Gene shouted and advanced, filling his expression with menace that had always worked so well in the past. “I will bang your head against the wall of this alley until the answers I want fall out of it, if you don’t start talking!” he growled.
The boy frowned at him and the corners of his mouth quirked briefly. “Did a man just run out of this alley? Average height, medium build, black hair, beard?” he rattled off.
“What if he did?” Gene demanded.
“He’s a dangerous criminal,” the little menace told him, glancing over Gene’s shoulder to the end of the alley.
“And why are you after ‘im then? You ain’t one of my coppers and this is my patch,” he stepped into the little toerag’s personal space.
“You’re a police officer?” he asked.
“DCI.”
“Me too, my name’s Potter. This isn’t your kind of criminal Detective. Can you tell me how long before I arrived that he exited the alley?” he asked, completely nonplussed by Gene’s proximity.
“Less than a minute,” Gene said dismissively. “And what, you think I can’t deal with some dress wearing nancy boy bad guy?”
Potter slid his own stick out of his sleeve. He looked between it and Gene contemplatively. “Forget you saw me, Detective,” he said with a lopsided smile.
Finally reaching the end of his patience Gene made a grab for the little idiot. Potter flicked his wrist and mumbled some kind of foreign nonsense and suddenly Gene couldn’t move a muscle.
Potter grabbed the hourglass with his free hand and shook it contemplatively. Now that Gene could see it closer he noticed a clock face on the front.
“It’s a new version,” Potter told him helpfully, probably having followed his eye line. “The hourglass is just for show really,” he continued nonsensically. He turned the dial on the clock back a few minutes.
“Anyway, it was nice to meet you Detective,” he said with a nod and walked past Gene to the start of the alley. “Thank you for your help!” he called back.
A few minutes later when Gene had control of his limbs again he exited the alley and looked up and down the road suspiciously. It was deserted.
On his way home Gene stopped at a local off licence and tried his best to dissolve the memory of the evening with a full bottle of extremely strong scotch.
Gene rattled the door of the police box. It had just appeared out of nowhere. Hadn’t been here on the way to Luigi’s, but here it was plain as day.
“Guv! Whatcha doing?” Ray shouted from down the street where he had begun staggering home.
“This. Bloody . Thing. Won’t. Open!” he growled.
“Gone bloody nuts,” he heard Ray say none too quietly.
“Nuthin’ there,” Chris said in agreement. Gene frowned and span round to yell at them, but lost his balance and ended up being kept standing only by the support of the (very solid and real thank you very much) police box at his back.
He turned back round with more care this time and banged on the door a few more times. When it felt like his knuckles were beginning to bruise he stopped and leant his head against the door in defeat.
A soft click caused him to open his eyes a few moments later. A tall, skinny bloke with slightly impossible hair had stuck his head round the door and was frowning at him.
“Was that you making that racket?” he asked with a grimace of distaste. Before Gene could answer he barrelled on. “Who are you, then?”
“DCI Hunt,” he managed to get in before the crazy police box occupier continued.
“I’m John Smith and I’d appreciate it if- Oh! You’re a police officer. This looks like a police box! I see the confusion. Well here,” he said and took a step to the side so Gene had a clear view of the inside of the police box. “As you can see, it’s clearly not a genuine police box so you can stop banging incessantly on the door. Why you could see it through the perceptual filter in the first place I don’t know; I’m sure it’s highly unlikely you have had contact with anyone who has travelled like I have.” he finished rambling, eventually. Gene barely noticed.
It was bigger on the inside. Also, it was kind of orange and green and glowing.
Something made a shrill high pitched noise and Smith bounced on his toes. “That’s my cue to leave, I’m afraid. It was a pleasure meeting you, DCI Hunt,” he said and snapped the door shut in Gene’s face. Seconds later he stuck his head out of the door once more. “Better stand back,” he said before he disappeared again.
A loud groaning noise filled the air and the top of the box glowed as the entire thing started to fade away. A few seconds later the street corner was as vacant as it had been on Gene’s journey to Luigi’s earlier that evening.
Gene headed back to the entrance of the restaurant. He’d need another bottle of wine before he went to bed tonight.
Possibly two.
When the lad with the weird gun did a double take as he ran past Gene’s car he almost stuck his head out of the window to ask what he wanted.
Then the blonde-haired freak with a weird nose and impractically long finger nails bolted past and seconds later exploded in a flash of purple light which seemed to come from the direction of the kid’s gun.
Gene put his foot on the accelerator and drove.
Obviously Gene’s very first impression of Drake had been slightly off base. Once he’d realised she was his new DI he likes to think he judged her pretty accurately.
Alex has the occasional good idea, but mostly she’s just nuts. And pretty self centred in her barmy tendencies as well.
He ignores her ramblings about different times and the future and everything that she says that makes no sense.
Drake may be insane, and she may be completely pre-occupied with her own issues, but she has yet to disappear.
And Gene’s fed up with all the crazy people who keep disappearing on him.
Sam wondered idly if they’d all be the same as when he’d left. Although, disappeared he supposed was a more appropriate word.
They could go down the pub; he’d tell them all his war stories. They’d celebrate his state of living.
Sam rapped his fingers on the interrogation desk. He was impressed; Gene’s new station had several interview rooms. Although ironically he found he preferred the stuffy environment of Lost and Found to the cold white walls of this small room.
After a few minutes the door opened and a woman stepped inside the room, upon seeing him however she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him wide eyed.
Sam heard a familiar irritated huff and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.
“Move your arse Bolls,” he said and the woman stumbled further into the room.
Sam had barely time to attempt eye contact before Gene was across the room and hauling him out of his chair by his shirt collar. He kept himself calm and collected. This was, after all, normal behaviour for Gene.
“Guv,” he nodded in greeting.
“We meet again, DI Tyler,” he said eventually, dropping Sam unceremoniously.
“It’s good to see you,” Sam said when Gene continued to frown at him.
“You were dead.”
“Looking good, don’t you think?” Sam responded dryly.
“So you’re back from the dead then,” Gene stated rather than questioned. “And you’re still a crackpot?”
“As much as I ever was, I suppose,” Sam agreed.
“Right, and you aren’t going to disappear again?”
“I’ve no plans to,” he shrugged in response
Gene nodded. “Right. Let’s go and celebrate. I’ve been having Luigi save me the good stuff.”
Sam laughed. “You don’t want to hear the story?” he asked.
“’Course. But I’ve got a few of me own and you’re going to need a few stiff drinks in you before you believe ‘em,” he explained as he began to pull Sam out of the interrogation room and down the corridor.
Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw a few heads turn and follow them as they passed CID.
“Guv!” the woman protested as she trotted after them.
“Not now, Drake. Tyler and I are going to clean Luigi out of his best scotch,” Gene intoned. The clacking of her heels on the floor ceased and Sam heard her sigh in defeat.
“Best scotch? Going all out aren’t we?” Sam asked.
Gene paused in his large strides and clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s worth it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Of all the crazy buggers I’ve met Sam, you’re definitely my favourite.”
Title: Five Crazy People Gene Hunt Met (Much to His Horror) and one with whom he was reunited
Word Count: 1,868
Summary: The title says it all!
Genre: Crack, 5 things, Crossover with Harry Potter, Doctor Who, Demons and a little bit of A2A
Beta: The wonderful
scarlet_gryphon gave it a once over
A/N: Response to a prompt given ages ago by wickednotevil. I got around to it eventually!
Archived at AO3
- Sam Tyler
When Gene first met Sam Tyler, he thought he was completely off his nut. As time would tell, that was an accurate assumption. Gene lost precious hours which he could have been spending in the pub catering to Sam’s special brand of insanity. He spent even more time in the station than he ever had before, impressive considering he practically lived there in the first place.
On occasion, however, there was method to Sam’s madness. Or possibly madness in his methods. Either way they put away a few more bad guys than they might have, picked up on a few things that only the utterly cracked mind of DI Tyler would have ever noticed.
Gene’s first thought on meeting Sam however was that he was a nut job who would do nothing but be a pain in Gene’s arse.
He was right about the trouble Sam would cause him, but he’d later realise it was mostly worth it.
- Auror Potter
It wasn’t long after they lost Sam that Gene encountered the speccy lunatic with the gravity defying hair.
A loud crack that sounded far too similar to a gunshot -and on Gene’s brand spanking new turf too- was what brought him to the opening of a London alleyway at seven on a Thursday evening. He’d barely stepped around the corner when he was bowled over by a dark haired, bearded man who spared him a brief glare as he was shoved into the alley wall.
“What the-?” Gene squinted. The freak was definitely wearing a dress, and gripping a stick the same way Gene did his gun during a chase.
Mere seconds later a young man appeared in the alley. Out of nowhere. The shock kept Gene from going and investigating the sounds of a scuffle somewhere outside of the alley; instead he blinked at the lad in confusion. “Where the hell’d you come from?” he demanded, idly he wondered if someone had spiked the scotch in his office.
The black haired boy barely spared him a glance, looking down at an hour glass that was hung around a golden chain on his neck.
“Oi!” Gene shouted and advanced, filling his expression with menace that had always worked so well in the past. “I will bang your head against the wall of this alley until the answers I want fall out of it, if you don’t start talking!” he growled.
The boy frowned at him and the corners of his mouth quirked briefly. “Did a man just run out of this alley? Average height, medium build, black hair, beard?” he rattled off.
“What if he did?” Gene demanded.
“He’s a dangerous criminal,” the little menace told him, glancing over Gene’s shoulder to the end of the alley.
“And why are you after ‘im then? You ain’t one of my coppers and this is my patch,” he stepped into the little toerag’s personal space.
“You’re a police officer?” he asked.
“DCI.”
“Me too, my name’s Potter. This isn’t your kind of criminal Detective. Can you tell me how long before I arrived that he exited the alley?” he asked, completely nonplussed by Gene’s proximity.
“Less than a minute,” Gene said dismissively. “And what, you think I can’t deal with some dress wearing nancy boy bad guy?”
Potter slid his own stick out of his sleeve. He looked between it and Gene contemplatively. “Forget you saw me, Detective,” he said with a lopsided smile.
Finally reaching the end of his patience Gene made a grab for the little idiot. Potter flicked his wrist and mumbled some kind of foreign nonsense and suddenly Gene couldn’t move a muscle.
Potter grabbed the hourglass with his free hand and shook it contemplatively. Now that Gene could see it closer he noticed a clock face on the front.
“It’s a new version,” Potter told him helpfully, probably having followed his eye line. “The hourglass is just for show really,” he continued nonsensically. He turned the dial on the clock back a few minutes.
“Anyway, it was nice to meet you Detective,” he said with a nod and walked past Gene to the start of the alley. “Thank you for your help!” he called back.
A few minutes later when Gene had control of his limbs again he exited the alley and looked up and down the road suspiciously. It was deserted.
On his way home Gene stopped at a local off licence and tried his best to dissolve the memory of the evening with a full bottle of extremely strong scotch.
- John Smith
Gene rattled the door of the police box. It had just appeared out of nowhere. Hadn’t been here on the way to Luigi’s, but here it was plain as day.
“Guv! Whatcha doing?” Ray shouted from down the street where he had begun staggering home.
“This. Bloody . Thing. Won’t. Open!” he growled.
“Gone bloody nuts,” he heard Ray say none too quietly.
“Nuthin’ there,” Chris said in agreement. Gene frowned and span round to yell at them, but lost his balance and ended up being kept standing only by the support of the (very solid and real thank you very much) police box at his back.
He turned back round with more care this time and banged on the door a few more times. When it felt like his knuckles were beginning to bruise he stopped and leant his head against the door in defeat.
A soft click caused him to open his eyes a few moments later. A tall, skinny bloke with slightly impossible hair had stuck his head round the door and was frowning at him.
“Was that you making that racket?” he asked with a grimace of distaste. Before Gene could answer he barrelled on. “Who are you, then?”
“DCI Hunt,” he managed to get in before the crazy police box occupier continued.
“I’m John Smith and I’d appreciate it if- Oh! You’re a police officer. This looks like a police box! I see the confusion. Well here,” he said and took a step to the side so Gene had a clear view of the inside of the police box. “As you can see, it’s clearly not a genuine police box so you can stop banging incessantly on the door. Why you could see it through the perceptual filter in the first place I don’t know; I’m sure it’s highly unlikely you have had contact with anyone who has travelled like I have.” he finished rambling, eventually. Gene barely noticed.
It was bigger on the inside. Also, it was kind of orange and green and glowing.
Something made a shrill high pitched noise and Smith bounced on his toes. “That’s my cue to leave, I’m afraid. It was a pleasure meeting you, DCI Hunt,” he said and snapped the door shut in Gene’s face. Seconds later he stuck his head out of the door once more. “Better stand back,” he said before he disappeared again.
A loud groaning noise filled the air and the top of the box glowed as the entire thing started to fade away. A few seconds later the street corner was as vacant as it had been on Gene’s journey to Luigi’s earlier that evening.
Gene headed back to the entrance of the restaurant. He’d need another bottle of wine before he went to bed tonight.
Possibly two.
- Luke Van Helsing
When the lad with the weird gun did a double take as he ran past Gene’s car he almost stuck his head out of the window to ask what he wanted.
Then the blonde-haired freak with a weird nose and impractically long finger nails bolted past and seconds later exploded in a flash of purple light which seemed to come from the direction of the kid’s gun.
Gene put his foot on the accelerator and drove.
- Alex Drake
Obviously Gene’s very first impression of Drake had been slightly off base. Once he’d realised she was his new DI he likes to think he judged her pretty accurately.
Alex has the occasional good idea, but mostly she’s just nuts. And pretty self centred in her barmy tendencies as well.
He ignores her ramblings about different times and the future and everything that she says that makes no sense.
Drake may be insane, and she may be completely pre-occupied with her own issues, but she has yet to disappear.
And Gene’s fed up with all the crazy people who keep disappearing on him.
- Sam Tyler
Sam wondered idly if they’d all be the same as when he’d left. Although, disappeared he supposed was a more appropriate word.
They could go down the pub; he’d tell them all his war stories. They’d celebrate his state of living.
Sam rapped his fingers on the interrogation desk. He was impressed; Gene’s new station had several interview rooms. Although ironically he found he preferred the stuffy environment of Lost and Found to the cold white walls of this small room.
After a few minutes the door opened and a woman stepped inside the room, upon seeing him however she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at him wide eyed.
Sam heard a familiar irritated huff and couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face.
“Move your arse Bolls,” he said and the woman stumbled further into the room.
Sam had barely time to attempt eye contact before Gene was across the room and hauling him out of his chair by his shirt collar. He kept himself calm and collected. This was, after all, normal behaviour for Gene.
“Guv,” he nodded in greeting.
“We meet again, DI Tyler,” he said eventually, dropping Sam unceremoniously.
“It’s good to see you,” Sam said when Gene continued to frown at him.
“You were dead.”
“Looking good, don’t you think?” Sam responded dryly.
“So you’re back from the dead then,” Gene stated rather than questioned. “And you’re still a crackpot?”
“As much as I ever was, I suppose,” Sam agreed.
“Right, and you aren’t going to disappear again?”
“I’ve no plans to,” he shrugged in response
Gene nodded. “Right. Let’s go and celebrate. I’ve been having Luigi save me the good stuff.”
Sam laughed. “You don’t want to hear the story?” he asked.
“’Course. But I’ve got a few of me own and you’re going to need a few stiff drinks in you before you believe ‘em,” he explained as he began to pull Sam out of the interrogation room and down the corridor.
Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw a few heads turn and follow them as they passed CID.
“Guv!” the woman protested as she trotted after them.
“Not now, Drake. Tyler and I are going to clean Luigi out of his best scotch,” Gene intoned. The clacking of her heels on the floor ceased and Sam heard her sigh in defeat.
“Best scotch? Going all out aren’t we?” Sam asked.
Gene paused in his large strides and clapped a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “It’s worth it.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Of all the crazy buggers I’ve met Sam, you’re definitely my favourite.”